


Clouds rising

by filigree (figureinthecarpet)



Series: The perils of everybody [3]
Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - Andy Weir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 08:53:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8526859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figureinthecarpet/pseuds/filigree
Summary: Three women after an election.





	

(1) Los Angeles, California

Min-ji woke up from a dream about wombats in space. It was un-sa-tis-fak-tor-ree, because she dreamed that they were flying around by flapping with their hair. Wombats didn't fly, she didn't think, but she didn't know for sure. 

Maybe she should ask Andy to look on wiki. Did her look-up limit start at midnight or in the morning? Maybe she should ask appa to sneak one in. He'd probably make her watch another episode of _kodoguru_ with him again, but Goro was funny and omma liked to make things from the show.

There was a faint hum coming from downstairs when Min-ji came back from the bathroom. She tiptoed down carefully, but then banged her elbow on the railing.

Neither appa or omma noticed because they were huddled into each other. There was wild cheering on television and appa's face was pale. Omma's shoulders were shaking and Min-ji realized that omma was also whimpering. The noise made her stomach hurt.

Appa turned off the television and kept rubbing circles on omma's back. "Min-ji, omma is sad, can you bring a towel and a glass of water?"

"Okay," but she didn't move, "why is omma sad?"

"Bring the towel first," appa said, firmly. 

Min-ji had to climb back upstairs to the linen closet. She came downstairs with her super awesome NASA towel. It was her favorite and omma liked it when she shared things.

Her parents hadn't moved, and omma hadn't looked up to see that it was her NASA towel. Omma noticed everything when she wasn't busy, but how did the tv make her busy?

Min-ji fidgeted. Omma wasn't making noises anymore but her stomach still hurted. Waiting was hard, but omma told her that being quiet got you more data, so she stood there and fidgeted more. 

Maybe omma figured it out by using it on appa, because a while, appa sighed and said, "Min-ji, there was an election today."

Min-ji nodded, confused. Her school had a mock election and they all lined up at the library to cast votes at a voting booth. Mrs. Waites said that people used to use these big voting machines with levers that you could pull for a can-dee-date.

"The candidate that we'd hope would win didn't," Appa said, still patting omma's back. His voice was wobbly, which was a good word but a bad feeling. There was a burning feeling in the back of Min-ji's throat to go with her stomach ache now. "Omma took it very hard, Min-ji."

There was the lady candidate and the old man with the funny hair. He said bad things and a classmate got punished for repeating some of those things. The old man didn't get punished. He'll get to be President instead. 

"But he said bad things," Min-ji said un-cer-tan-lee. "Why do people vote for people who said bad things when we're not supposed to? How did he win?"

Appa thought it over, which Min-ji liked. Appa always thought it over, even if her questions were silly or if Andy jumped in with a question in the middle of her question. Omma once said appa was the ant-ti-thuh-sis of ideal Korean mass-q-li-ni-ty, but Andy didn't know what that meant and neither of her parents would explain that one even when she promised to use up her entire wiki lookup limit _for a week_ on the answer. It probably had something to do with how appa did more housework than omma did. Janice and Yung Wei were surprised when she said that, and also when she said that Andy and her did the same amount of chores.

"We have a good life but other people don't," appa said finally, "His voters think that the new President can make their lives better because the other choice meant more of the same badness for them. So they chose something new because they also want a chance to have a good life, even if he said some very bad things too."

Min-ji thought about that carefully. "I heard people saying that we should leave. If he's President, where do we go?" Harabeoji and halmeoni lived on a farm in Busan and ojii-san didn't talk to omma. She didn't think Andy wanted to leave, either.

"No," appa's voice was funny. "No, we don't have to leave, daughter. But some people will be sad and other people may be mean, for a while."

"Okay," Her stomach still felt bad, but Min-ji thought omma would feel worse if she said that, so she made a fake yawn, "I'm sleepy, appa. Can we talk about this again tomorrow?"

Omma raised her head from appa's legs. Her eyes were red and puffy and the hand she put on Min-ji's shoulder shook very hard. Min-ji could feel it all the way to her feet and she swallowed a sick feeling down. "Min-ji-ah, be careful when you leave the house, ne?"

Min-ji nodded, then she caught appa's look and gave omma a hug. Omma's arms took over then, and for a moment, omma's hugs felt like appa's, which made Min-ji feel extra funny because omma didn't like hugs and gave her cookies and silly drawings instead, so the election must have been extra bad.

There was one last question though. "Omma, there was a cee-ling that someone was supposed to break. Did the new President break it?"

Omma hiccuped. Andy said that she did that sometimes when she was trying to decide how to react, which was funny because Min-ji couldn't figure out how a person could have more than one reaction at a time. "No, Min-ji, no one broke a ceiling today." Omma's eyes were leaking again, but her gaze was steady as she stared at Min-ji, "Someone else will just have to throw a bomb through it."

(2) Washington, D.C.

The average American has less than one thousand dollars in his (or her) savings account. Annie Montrose had ten thousand dollars in her checking account, slightly over sixty thousand dollars in her savings account that had been destined for a wedding and a down payment. She also had a retirement account; that was slightly down on account of the seven thousand point drop in Dow futures before post-election night trading was suspended. Annie was taking the long view on that. She was holding mostly index funds and she anticipated dropping dead at work instead of retiring.

She flew to Dulles on miles and then promptly decamped to a bathroom to change into her most sober looking work dress, which showed no cleavage but was violently teal. The women of the Beltway were armored in Ann Taylor, as her politics-obsessed college roommate used to repeat when cataloguing their combined closet. In response, Annie added stiletto heels and a navy trenchcoat to the silent fuck you.

The last thing that her employer did for her before cutting her loose was to set up the meeting with the DNC. She sat in for the call and the staffer who had answered the phone sounded shell-shocked and on the verge of tears. They'd also sounded confused about why someone from Silicon Valley would want to talk to the DNC _now_ , but they took the meeting.

She read about prospective cabinet selections from _Politico_ on the metro. There were still some late commuters when she got off at Federal Center. Most seemed shell-shocked, and a middle-aged lady with an EPA tag burst into sobs in the middle of the platform. There were also a couple of red hats waving American flags. Annie put on her sunglasses and didn't acknowledge anyone.

She had to push through some demonstrators at the door who tried to heckle her for being an corporate tool, which was fair, because she was one. The staffer who showed her to the conference room kept sneaking peeks at her. Perversely, Annie wondered if she should have shown some cleavage after all.

The DNC interim chair, the National Political Director, and three staffers stopped dead when they walked in. It was very obvious that they had expected someone who was not a young white woman in an eye-searing dress. Then again, they would have walked out a lot faster had she not been young, white, and female. Maybe she should have hired an entourage from Craigslist.

To stave off the polite brush off, she stood up, walked around the frozen group, and then closed the door behind them with a resounding bang. She had their attention for maybe the next thirty seconds. 

Annie liked challenges.

"Your candidate was problematic. The polling was bad. You wasted money on new voters who didn't turn out for you. And you assumed that states and voters were safe when they weren't and ignored them. Fine, election's over.

"Your real problem is that the politicians you have in office are aging, and the GOP has choked off state-level pipelines for new political talent. 

"But there's still a midterm in two years and another Presidential election in four.

"You know who set up this meeting. I came here to tell you that your playbook is shit, and that business as usual is repelling talent and money that would otherwise help you. Sit the fuck down and pay me the courtesy of listening to some new ideas, because it's not over yet."

The political director made a face, but they sat.


End file.
